Drops of Grace and Bliss
by Valisco
Summary: A multi-chapter series composing of vignettes, oneshots, sentences, you name it. All focusing on the rare couple of Ms. Lady Luck and the Hero of Freedom. Also may feature other characters, pairings, and possibly historical events.
1. Drop 1

**A/N: **Simply put a series of vignettes, ficlets, drabbles, sentences, etc for the rare APH pairing that I love: America x Monaco.

Some may have context, some may not, some may pertain to Himaruya's canon, some may not be obligated to do so. Some may reference history, some may not. Some may feature more characters or pairings than the main couple some may not. Ratings may vary for each one. For some you maybe able to make them as you will, enjoy.

This is also posted on AO3/Archive of our Own, you can go to my profile and the link to my AO3 account (called Railgun) is there. Either that you can visit the Hetalia Archive and you can find it there.

**Disclaimer: Me? Owning Hetalia? Not sure if you would like to go to that route.**

**Hetalia: Axis Powers © Hidekaz Himaruya**

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Drops of Grace and Bliss

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_**Drop 1**_

_**Summary: A single action can cause the unexpected. **_

_**Type: Ficlet**_

_**Rating: Everyone**_

_**Warnings: None**_

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Always be prepared for the unexpected.

How many people follow that? Not a lot. How can they? If they do not even know what the unexpected even is? It is a somewhat natural occurrence, and no one can return to the previous moment before the result.

Maybe the unexpected can be avoided if they do not do a certain action, just one gesture can make a difference, it causes them to walk on one of the roads they could take. It is usually the one that is expected. While the other is abandoned, never to be explored, never is the other result discovered. Never will they come to face with the unexpected.

Today, he will meet the unexpected.

Having the childlike quality engraved in his personality, America places a pencil on his nose, trying to balance it up straight, using one of his hands to help it stay solid. The world meeting that is being held is causing him to meet up with boredom. So, to avoid meeting the feeling, he tries to entertain himself.

Not that he finds world conferences to be a waste of time, no, they are important, especially since he represents a powerful nation that has a world influence. Nonetheless, sometimes they can be long, tedious, and can lead to debates. Those long speeches and lectures that nations would give out at times are dull in his eyes. He of course listens, but some can become out of topic that he just throws them out from his mind, and even worse if it's an intense debate, unless he is involved.

He just had to find a way to keep himself sharp and active.

The waves of voices enters his ears, but he is too focused on what he is doing to pay any attention to it.

His neighbor who is seated next to him, Canada can detect the boredom emitting out of him, it is not to hard to see that he is feeling that way. Trying to lighten up the mood, he moves his seat closer to the American, and leans toward his side. "Hey, I have something to tell you."

America's blue eyes dully move to meet with Canada's face, still playing with the pencil. "Yeah?"

"This meeting is almost over. You don't have to worry about the boredom anymore, I can tell you are not enjoying today's meeting."

"Sounds like you can read expressions, Canada. I did not know you had such talent."

"No, it's just too obvious. Anyone can see you look disinterested."

"I see." America finally managed to get the writing utensil stay in place. "Well, Thank God it is."

"To be frank, I am not enjoying it much either," Canada mumbles. "It's pretty boring."

"And we're done!" China announces loudly, causing all the attention to shift to him. "Meeting is over!"

"That was some intense debates we had," Germany adds, he rises up from his seat and does a few stretches.

"Yes, it was pretty fun," Russia says in a playful tone. His lips create a smile for more emphasis. "We should do these again."

"No thanks," England bitterly spats. "I've seen enough for one day." He rises from his seat and leaves.

Other nations proceed to flood out of the room, while some stay and plan to travel around the city a bit before returning to their respective homes.

"Come on, lets go get something to eat," Canada encourages, he sees America rise up, the pencil falls into the ground. He does not bother to pick it up and he tosses his suit jacket onto his shoulder. "Sure."

They walk out of the room, eager to indulge themselves in a delicious meal, but as they do, the American nation feels something soft that he is stepping on. He lifts his foot to find a red ribbon on the carpet floor and examines it for a few seconds. Did someone lose this? He picks it up. Canada who started to walk a little far from him, stops in his tracks. He turns and asks, "Something wrong?"

"I just found something," replies America, he holds out the ribbon as Canada approaches him. "Don't know who this belongs to."

The Canadian tilts his head a bit, he places his hands on his hips, and studies the ribbon. "Hmm. . ."

"Got any ideas?"

"I am thinking. I've seen this ribbon before, someone wears this."

A female nation that usually wears ribbons on her pigtails suddenly pops into America's head. He reveals the name "S—Seychelles?"

"Good guess, but she didn't attend the meeting. Earlier today, I heard France say that she couldn't make it."

"Oh."

Suddenly doors near the end of the hall are opened, and a girl is running down, but America and Canada are too busy to notice as they are still pondering who the ribbon belongs to.

"It belongs to a female nation, that's for sure."

"Yeah, it's definitely not one of Belarus' ribbons, hers are not red."

"Maybe Belgium? Doesn't she also wear these types of ribbons in her hair?"

"Yeah she does! Maybe it belongs to her—!"

America's sentence abruptly ends when he collides with the running girl, who just tripped, causing her to crash into him, the two fall on the floor. The girl's glasses also slip from her face, Canada's eyes widen at the scene.

The female nation lifts her head up, who meets up with the male nation's. "Uhh. . ."

The female lets out a quick blush and moves herself away from America. "Sorry." She notices her glasses on the floor and swiftly places them back on.

"Hmm?" Canada questions. "Is that—" The girl turns to him, her long light brown braid is slightly messy due to the lack of a hair accessory to support it.

"—Monaco!"

"Ah, Monsieur Canada. Nice to see you again, it has been a while." Monaco politely lifts herself up and bows.

"No need to be so formal," he laughs. "What brings you here?"

The face of the Monegasque becomes solemn. "I've seen to have lost my red ribbon, but I believe that I left it back in the room."

America's head jerks of that sentence, could it be that the ribbon he is holding belongs to her? Of course!

He rises from the floor and pulls out the ribbon. "You mean this?"

Monaco moves her body toward him, and her face lightens up of seeing her hair accessory found. "_Mon Dieu_! That's it! Thank you! Er—Monsieur America?"

He nods and flashes a grin. "Yep, that's me. The one and only."

"Good to see you, it has been a long time since we have last seen each other."

"Yeah I know, we don't interact much."

"Indeed, sorry about earlier with the fall."

"Not a prob Mona. It's cool. . ."

Getting a close up of details of her face, the American is in sudden awe at her beauty. _Woah. She's pretty. . ._

"May I have my ribbon back please?"

America snaps out of his trance. "Oh yeah!" He hands her the ribbon, and she with her small hand retrieves it from his grasp. She fixes her braid, then places the ribbon back into her hair tightly. "That should do it."

"Looking good."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me," America compliments, he lets out a small blush, and awkwardly lets out a thumbs up. "You—look good with it."

A blush with the shade of crimson sweeps across Monaco's face. "Ah, thank you."

"No problem, heh."

"Ahem."

Their klutzy moment is interrupted by Canada who is silently witnessing the whole thing. "Um, we should get going now."

"Right," mumbles America.

"Well," Monaco states, her face returning to a normal color and shows a small smile. "France is waiting for me. It was nice to see both of you again! Goodbye!" She runs off, her braid flies along, that America's eyes are intact with it.

He wonders if he will see her again, when it comes to the principalities, he did not see them much or interact with them. But this female nation, has abruptly caught his interest. He always has had some knowledge about her, due to diplomatic meetings, but now he suddenly wants to get to know her more. Is it because they met again in such a causal way? It could be that her beauty has captivated him, he never realized how lovely she looks, especially with that cute red ribbon.

America did not expect this to happen at all today. He thought of a normal day, doing his duties of a Superpower and nation. Attending meetings, working with the government, eating his favorite meals, maybe even hang out a bit playing video games with Tony after work.

However, the unexpected decided to knock into his life, and he could have avoided it, if he did not pick up the ribbon. How would have things went if he didn't? Would he and Canada be thinking on who the ribbon belongs to? Would Monaco crash into him if he didn't? Would he be not be awestruck at her beauty? Would they not have that clumsy moment? Would he be not suddenly interested in her?

Probably not.

Even so, he met up with the unexpected just by committing one action.

And that is not a bad thing.

America smirks, and then he turns to Canada asking a very stirring question:

"Do you know her number?"

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**A/N: **Decided to start off with one that is a little steady with fluff. I assure you that the next one will come soon, so stay tuned! Thank you for reading.


	2. Drop 2

_**Drop 2**_

_**Summary: No matter how much she would complain about her height, he would always end those criticisms by a simple lift.**_

_**Type: Ficlet**_

_**Rating: Everyone**_

_**Warnings: None**_

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She finds herself to be in a light, bitter mood.

But how? How can she can be feeling so sour while she is being treated with a lovely dinner by her lover due being able to stay at his country for a week? The candle lights, the reserved seats, the classical music of Für Elise being played in the background, it exhibits the scene of a perfect date, yet she is a little blue.

No matter how oblivious he looks, he takes note of it and does not make any comments. He hides this by talking about himself instead and his issues. She tries to listen but her mind drifts off to the inner criticisms in her head, and whenever he would finish a sentence with a question, she would always make a simple nod, as if she knew what the question is, but she didn't.

_Look how short you are._

_You're even smaller than Ms. Liechtenstein._

_Why are you so short?_

"—and that's why I don't buy into conspiracy theories. I mean yeah, I buy into some extraterrestrial stuff and while some theories are interesting, most are just full of shit."

"Huh?" Monaco snaps out of her trance as America finishes his sentence.

The American can see that she was not paying attention throughout the whole conversation. "Honey, were you even listening?"

Feeling ashamed, Monaco looks away and mumbles the obvious answer. America lets out a deep sigh, he did not want to bother her about the possible issue she may have, but now that thought is disintegrating.

"Can you recap what we were talking about?" inquires Monaco timidly, she did not want to displease him but it already seems that she did based on his faint yet bitter expression.

"We were talking about conspiracy theories Babe," recalls America, rubbing his forehead. "And why I find them to be folly at points."

"Oh."

"Want me to explain it again?"

"If you wish."

"You don't seem interested though."

"Ah, no—"

"You haven't even touched your dessert."

"America—"

"And something's up," He finishes, as the waiter places down the bill on the table. He takes it and examines the bill with his eyes, which widens a bit. "Damn, this much?"

"Yes Sir," The waiter replies. "What do you expect from a five star restaurant?"

"Of course," America sighs, he pulls out money from his wallet and counts them. "Even good old DC has these expensive places. Here."

"You have to go to the cashier to pay—Oh my God, these hundred dollar bills are the new ones, right?" The waiter comments in surprise as he stares at the money. He notices the slightly modified design on them.

"When you work with and know the Federal Reserve, you experience a lot of interesting stuff," America answers, lifting from his seat. "Also, these bills have been out for months. The new design doesn't look too bad if you ask me, and yeah I know."

He winks at the waiter and hands him the money. "But in there is your tip, there is no need for change as everything in there is done and counted. You can just give the rest to the cashier."

He approaches Monaco and lightly taps her shoulder. "Lets go, Babe."

The principality follows suit, leaving the waiter in bewilderment.

"And they say that the man who represents our great United States is said to be an idiot. Now I have proof that he isn't," He mumbles, scratching his head.

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As they drive out the restaurant, America finally breaks the concern he has over his lover. "Alright, talk."

Monaco looks at him with wonder. "What?"

"You damn well understand what I mean. Something is bothering you and I will find out what it is."

"Nothing is bothering me," Monaco mumbles, trying to avoid this conversation. To her it seems like a stupid thing to get fussed about but she can't help but feel upset. There is no need to explain him the petty issue of her height.

"Prove it, your behavior at the restaurant contradicts your statement otherwise."

"I am telling you that I am fine. It's just. . .something stupid that I will get over. Don't waste concern."

"Yeah well that 'something stupid' seems to me like a big issue," America retorts.

"It's not."

"You keep telling me that, I won't give up."

"Are you really this stubborn?" Monaco spats in annoyance.

"Maybe darling," America smirks, he stops the vehicle at a red light. "Now you can see why they say that the USA tends to poke his nose into anyone's business."

"That does not look like something to be proud of," Monaco mutters, her face looking at the window, not even bothering to make eye contact.

"Never said it was, you know I used to be secluded from the rest of the world, until around the early 20th century when the Progressive Era was blooming, maybe even earlier when I first met Japan. And as time went by I became a powerhouse, inevitable that I would eventually meddle in world affairs."

"I know."

"Then you should know how obstinate I can be, especially around those I care about." The traffic light changes green and America steps on the peddle. "Now, tell your hero what is wrong."

Monaco enters into thought for a few moments, then she turns to him with a light nod. "Alright fine, but can we stop somewhere first?"

"You got it. Where?"

"Anywhere."

They stop near the architecture of the Washington Monument and escape the car. From there they proceed to the path toward it. "Well, we're here," announces America. "So, now that I've done my part of the deal, it's your turn."

Monaco stares down at the path they walk on, it is night, there are barely any people around. Even so, she can hear the voices of a few wandering around the monument, from laughter, chats, screams of joy, and other social gestures.

She can also see America walking right beside, intensely viewing her, eagerly waiting for her part.

"Well?"

The Monegasque lets out a small sigh and releases the words: "When you hear of the word 'height', what do you think of?"

"Oh! Heights? Well um. . ." America trails off, pondering on what the word means to him. ". . .well height is usually associated with how tall something is. . .like a tree compared to a skyscraper. Distance can also be applied at points. Why do you—" He stops his sentence, releases a slight glare at her and facepalms. "—not this shit again."

"Now you know," Monaco murmurs.

"What happened this time?" America mutters.

"A few days ago I was on a girl's night out with the other female nations," Monaco explains warily. "We started to tease about each other and then my height became a topic for them to taunt on. I did not mind at first, but then it was starting to make me feel uncomfortable, that even Sesel and Bel told everyone to stop talking about it."

"What did they say?" The American inquires with concern.

"Oh, it was mostly harmless comments, nothing rude, but I did not want to be reminded how short I am. I am even shorter than Ms. Liechtenstein, whom I respect and adore but. . ." She trails off, feeling distressed.

She understands why she is short, after all representing the second smallest country in the world gives it away, and while she loves her nation, she would not mind if it were to grow a little more.

"And you let all that get to you, right? It's been stressing you out."

Monaco sighs again. "Yes, you know how anxious I can be."

"Aww, Babe," America wraps his arm around her tight, and shakes his head. "How many times do I have to tell you? There is nothing wrong with being short."

"But I am a little _too_ short," Monaco counters, her face solemn. "Every other girl is taller than me, I feel a little intimidated by it."

"Yeah well look at me," America chuckles. "I'm pretty tall and slightly big, well not as big as Russia but you get the point. I don't complain."

"Yes, but it's better than being small. We also have such a height difference, we're an odd couple."

"And? That's not a bad thing at all."

"True, but people may stare at us strangely."

"To the hell with that!"

Suddenly Monaco feels strong lift and is swooped up into his arms, she can see America grinning on what he had just done.

"Ah!"

"You worry too much Babe," The taller nation teases.

The smaller nation blushes at the comment and gesture. "Put me down!"

He shakes his head. "Nah, I like carrying you around. You're small, the fact that you are just makes me want to hold and cuddle you!"

"America!"

"I mean it," He adds, delivering a speech he has told her before in past whenever this issue would arise. "Look Mona, I've told you this many times, you really need to stop concerning over your height, because it's a part of you. You can't avoid it, but it's part of who you are, and it makes you special. So what if you are small?"

Monaco rolls her eyes at his cheesy, cliché reasoning.

"Honestly Babe, stop. It's not good to concern yourself with mindless stuff like that. Plus, I like that you are short.

"What? Why?"

"Why?" America grins, giving her a cheesy answer. "Because whenever you need saving the big, strong, hero here will be able to carry you away safely!"

Monaco shakes her head in amusement. Of course he would say sappy things such as that, she would like to suggest him to stop watching too many Hollywood movies.

"And well, because it's a part of you. You know that and I love everything about you," America mumbles, trying to show her that he can be in depth with words and emotion. "Plus, what I am doing now, it's making you feel better, right?"

She perks up at the question and blushes again. "Uh. . ."

"You like it when I hold you like this, do you Mona?"

She quivers a bit at the response, her face is red and she turns away in embarrassment.

"I'll take that as a 'Yes'," America laughs.

Monaco releases a slight smile at his laugh. "I do," She admits timidly.

"And? You feel any better?"

"Perhaps, and you better not let me go."

"I knew lifting you up would do the trick."

She laughs as he bends his face down to kiss her, and carries her to the monument.

And those criticisms she has fade away, because no matter how many complaints she has over her height, he will always be there to lift her out of them.


	3. Drop 3

**A/N: **Not sure why I am updating this since barely anyone seems to be reading it and the fact this pairing is extremely rare that most tend to disregard it. From what I've seen, this fandom already has its established mainstream pairings, that all others tend to be ignored such as this one so that sucks for rare pair shippers such as I. Perhaps because I actually found this sitting in my documents folder for a few months that I decided to upload it and not let it go to waste, lol. If you stumbled upon this out of curiosity, enjoy.

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_**Drop 3  
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_**Summary: They consider her to be a good girl and she is, it's just that she has desires that she wants to be fulfilled. He will deliver those easily.**_

_**Type: Vignette**_

_**Rating: T+**_

_**Warnings: Just light sexual themes, nothing else.**_

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They consider her to be a good girl and she is, it's just that she has desires that she wants to be fulfilled.

It happens every now and then, where she wants her needs met, and she does get them.

Those around her may say it is bad, no, they will, and she knows it, but she can respond to them that she is a woman.

Not ordinary, they might say. Yes, she is not an ordinary feeble human, although her appearance gives the impression that she is. She actually represents a nation that is over hundreds and hundreds of years old, but even so, beneath what she represents, she is still a woman. Nature has given humans to attract to one another, and when it happens, a lustrous desire appears, entering them in a pleasurable intimacy. And she who still retains the physical and mental qualities of a human, has those needs.

Plenty of her friends who also represent nations, have engaged in it, it's not a bad thing, it has existed for centuries. Even so, sometimes it can be seen as morally wrong, and since she is characterized as a refined intelligent lady, the reactions of those who love and support her might be in shock in finding out she has done such thing.

Her sex life is not public though, she does her best to keep it private, the problem is that her country always watches her. Due to the small population, everyone knows her. She is considered a role model for the women in her country, and is part of the Grimaldi Nobility, which are highly respected.

She does not want to engage in such promiscuity and encourage bad behavior, her refined nature told her so, but those desires would not die, they keep pushing her to give in.

So to avoid hassle from home, she usually releases those desires when she is away from the place to a certain male nation and keeps it quiet.

It has been a quite a while since she has engaged in sexual acts, she has not seen her partner due to his busy schedule. She is glad that she is invited to the latest world conference, he would be there, and she is in need to be touched.

When the meeting ends and as everyone is leaving, France, who also came along with Monaco, is seen being invited by England and Canada to see a Broadway play here in New York. He questions why a certain American isn't tagging along with them instead.

"He was supposed to come with us but then he declined at the last minute. I don't know why," Canada says, shrugging. He pulls out a ticket. "I really don't want this to go to waste so can you come with us?"

"That's a little odd," France replies with suspicion, rather than answering Canada's question. "He usually comes along with you guys to anywhere."

"Oh, does it matter?" England responds, he does not mind the lack of America's presence. "For once we can all enjoy ourselves in something theatrical without that git making such a ruckus. So, are you coming or not?"

France hesitates, as he does not want to leave his protégé, but Monaco assures that she will be fine and that he should enjoy himself.

France takes her input and nods, he tells her that she can explore the city while he is out, and that he will give her a call once the play is over to take the plane back to Paris. Monaco of course returns the favor with the nod and nudges him to go, hoping that they leave before _he _comes for her. Once they are all out of sight, she is the only one left in the room, or so she thinks.

A pair of strong arms wrap around her petite waist, she startles at the gesture at first but she acknowledges who it is from. She giggles as a result, leading her eyes to the hands of the man who holds her. They are the hands of America, who is releasing a smirk.

"I've missed you Babe," he says ardently, he places a small peck onto her cheek.

"So have I," Monaco replies, letting out a fervent smile.

"Heh, sorry I had to do a few diplomatic errands first right after the meeting. And it looks like France is gonna be my replacement for going to Broadway with them, huh?"

"Yes. They invited France as your replacement, and I told him to go."

America's face lightens up. "Awesome, now we can have some alone time together."

"Mmm, yes. " Monaco turns to him and begins to rub his chest. "Well. . ."

America lifts a brow, inquisitive of not only the sensual touches she is giving but on the reason of why her mouth trailed off. ". . .well what?"

Monaco pulls the tie of his suit, leading him down to her level, she licks her lips and whispers seductively, "I am in need of a bed for some _pleasurable _moments. Join me?"

Such words gave the American quite an arousal, and he smirks once again. He knows what she wants, and he does not mind—it's just sex after all. He chuckles and swoops the smaller nation into his arms and carries her out the room. "You got it!"

She is a good girl, but he can be a bad boy—and those desires she has, he will deliver easily.

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**A/N: **Not sure if when I'll upload the next one. . .or if there ever will be one, but knowing me I don't like to leave things unfinished so there's a chance another one will pop up eventually.


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